The wren committing sparrow crimes
in torn up trash is glad to find
little grown-ups made up signs
on yellow paper with blue lines.
The careful lion commands esteem,
his ferocity not always what it seems.
roar of defiance now seldom rings;
he sleeps alone, perchance to dream.
The man explores his waking thoughts,
should wait for rest but he cannot;
for fear of being by destiny caught,
selling what he so recently bought.
The wind approaches carefully,
as if afraid what it might see.
Or worse, ignored, by the whisper tree
it diminishes and turns to flee.